


Department Store Difficulties

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Embarrassment, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Humor, M/M, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: Stiles makes a bad decision in the dressing room, and ends up needing a little help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the seventh prompt on [ this post](http://vaultboyahegao.tumblr.com/post/139941697703/assorted-weirdly-specific-aus). Have some more ridiculous fluff, everyone!

It’s pretty late in the evening, the store mostly empty, so Derek is just trying to keep himself busy until he can go home. He’s just gotten back to his station, beginning to sort the clothes on the discard rack, when he hears a nervous-sounding voice say, “Uh, could I get a little help here?”

“Sure,” he calls, putting the hangars back. He’s pretty sure it’s someone in the furthest dressing room down the row, so he heads that way. “What’s the problem?” he asks, stopping in front of the door.

Derek hears the bolt unlatch, and the door inches open, revealing a familiar face. A _very_ familiar face. Because while it’s been a couple of years since high school, Derek would recognize those moles anywhere.

“ _Stiles?_ ” he says in surprise. He’d thought Stiles had left town for good.

“Oh my god, _Derek?_ ” Stiles groans, slumping against the wall of the dressing room. “It would just figure,” he mutters, as the door edges further open.

“Sorry?” Derek says, a little miffed. He’s happy to see Stiles, but apparently the feeling isn’t mutual. “What’s wrong?”

“This is so embarrassing,” Stiles says on a sigh. Before Derek can ask, he lets the door swing all the way open.

Derek has to use every ounce of his willpower to keep from laughing. “Stiles,” he says as seriously as he can. “Why are you wearing a shirt from the children’s department?”

“It’s not!” Stiles says defensively, and tries to cross his arms. He can’t, though. The shirt is just too small.

Derek is honestly shocked he hasn’t busted out of it yet.

He beckons Stiles out of the dressing room, then reaches for the collar, flipping it up so he can read the tag. He looks long enough to see the _XXS_ in big letters, and then quickly tucks it back in.

“You had to know it was going to be too small,” he says dubiously, stepping back. He’s trying really hard not to stare at the three inches of bare abs he can see, but every time he looks away, he just notices something else. Like the sleeves straining against Stiles’ biceps, or how tightly the shirt is stretched across his chest.

“I’ve always been kind of shrimpy, I figured it’d be okay,” Stiles says, and Derek guiltily drags his gaze back to Stiles’ face.

He’d watched every one of Stiles’ lacrosse games, and he knows for a fact that Stiles has _never_ been shrimpy.

“Might I ask why, exactly, you decided to try squeezing into an _extra_ extra small?” Derek asks, amused.

“I was, uh, wanting to impress someone,” Stiles says, nervously tugging at the too-short hem.

“By wearing poorly-fitted clothing?” Derek asks, skeptical.

“No,” Stiles huffs. “I was hoping it’d make me look _bigger_ , you know? Like, more muscular. I wanted to look sexy,” he says, scratching at his jaw. It doesn’t hide his flush.

“For who?” Derek asks, feeling a twinge of jealousy. “Lydia Martin?”

“Oh my god, did everybody know about my crush on her?” Stiles groans.

“Pretty much the whole town,” Derek says, nodding.

“Wow, that’s almost as embarrassing as this situation, right now. Almost.”

“Hey, this is a new experience for me, too,” Derek says, grinning. “Lean over, I’ll see if I can peel you out of that shirt.”

Stiles gives him a dramatic sigh, then bends at the waist, revealing the muscular curve of his back. Derek finds he’s staring at the little dimples at the base of Stiles’ spine, and he jerks his gaze away.

He tucks his fingers under the edge of the shirt, trying not to let his skin touch Stiles’ too much. He slowly works it off in firm little tugs, over and over, until he can see the angles of Stiles’ shoulder blades.

“Okay, put your arms out,” Derek says. “Looks like I might not have to cut it off of you, after all.”

Stiles laughs, then obligingly extends his arms. He looks completely ridiculous.

“Brace yourself,” Derek warns, then gives a couple of firm yanks.

He stumbles back as the shirt finally comes free, and he looks up just in time to catch Stiles’ victorious fist pump.

“Wow, that feels better,” he says brightly, windmilling his arms around like he’s trying to loosen up his muscles. Then he seems to abruptly realize what he’s doing, and he quickly crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna, um, put my clothes back on,” he says, and slips back into the dressing room.

Derek looks at the closed door for a moment, then shrugs. Out of curiosity, he turns toward the mirror at the end of the row, and holds the shirt up to his chest. It looks comically tiny.

Trying to distract himself from the rustling noises he can hear, he says, “So, are you back in town?”

“Back?” Stiles says, sounding muffled. “I never really left. I’ve just been going to college over in Beacon Heights.”

“Oh,” Derek says, surprised. Stiles had been so close by, all this time? “They made it sound like you were on the other side of the country, or something.” He’d asked Stiles’ friends about a week after graduation, and had been disappointed to learn that Stiles was already gone. So disappointed, in fact, that he hadn’t stuck around long enough to ask _where_ Stiles went.

“Nah, I wouldn’t go that far away,” Stiles says cheerfully. “Though Scott can be a little melodramatic about it sometimes. Says it cuts into his bro time.”

“Oh,” Derek repeats, then rolls his eyes at himself.

 “Yeah, it’s only like a half hour drive, if the traffic’s not bad,” Stiles says, pushing open the dressing room door. He spots Derek, still holding up the shirt, and bursts out laughing. “Wow, you make that thing look ridiculously small.”

“And you probably stretched it out some,” Derek says, smirking. He’s glad to see Stiles is now wearing a shirt that actually fits properly, and he pointedly tosses the tiny shirt into the Returns box.

 “Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says good-naturedly, hanging up the other clothes he was trying on. Then he glances at Derek, shuffles his feet nervously. “It wasn’t Lydia I was hoping to impress,” he says. “It was actually this guy. This guy that I had a really big crush on in high school. This guy _that I didn’t know worked at this department store_ ,” he finishes in a rush.

Derek stares for a moment, his brain running over Stiles’ words. “Me?” he says when he works it out. “It was _me?_ ”

 “Um, yeah,” Stiles says, and Derek can see that he’s blushing. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, and how I regretted never asking you out in high school, never taking that chance. So I came here to get some nice clothes, and then I was going to find you, and ask you…” He trails off, swallowing nervously.

“Ask me?” Derek says, his heart racing. He takes a step closer, then another.

“Derek,” Stiles says, and his voice cracks. He clears his throat, eyes flitting across Derek’s face. “Would you go on a date with me?” he asks, swaying closer.

“Yes,” Derek breathes, as Stiles leans in.

“Oh,” he says with a smile, settling his hands on Derek’s hips. “Are you sure I don’t have to impress you first?”

“No,” Derek says, dipping his head to kiss him softly on the lips. “I’m plenty impressed already.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
